


These Shark-Infested Waters

by averynicecake



Category: Free!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Background Relationships, Blood, Blood and Gore, Captain Makoto, Drunkenness, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Fights, I just love pirates, I'm not lying, Im trying my best to write fast but im busy sry, M/M, Mapper Rei, Matsuoka Rin is a Tease, Mild Gore, Multiship, Murder, Navigator Nagisa, Pirate AU, Pirates, Protective Tachibana Makoto, Relationship(s), Rivalry, Swearing, Swordfighting, every fucking ship is in here, everyone is gay for makoto, i kid you not, literally everyone tries flirting with makoto and rei, main ships are makoharu reigisa sourin momotori seigou, minor makorin, pirate slang, sea whisperer haru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averynicecake/pseuds/averynicecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because, when Haruka looked at Rin, he felt the crew's eyes on him, and it sparked something primal, a survival instinct he forgot had even existed until this moment. It was overwhelming, aggressive, vicious. It felt like he was drowning in a shark-infested sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed a few drawings of the Free! boys as pirates, and I remembered the ideas for a big ol' Pirate AU that I came up with a while ago. I've actually mapped out my own outfits and weapons for the boys but I am too lazy to upload anything so your imagination will have to make do.  
> This will be my first multi-chaptered fic and I'm genuinely not used to updating fast so I'll probably be a little slow, but I hope you enjoy reading this anyway!

Tachibana Makoto clicked his tongue and turned his head to the sky, using his forearm to shield his calm, lime green eyes from the harsh sun of Japanese summer. Though it was cloudy, the glare shone through cracks in the walls of dark grey, and it reached through every gap and bounced off every white beam of the ship, as if the sky were willing it to blind the man.  
  
“It looks like it’s going to rain,” he observed, turning towards his second-in-command, “Haru, what’s the water telling you?”  
  
Tachibana looked in interest at his friend’s concentrating face. He scrunched up his nose and held a slim hand out to the air in front of him, bangles clinking in the wind, curling his fingers up slowly and unfolding his fist again, breathing slowly, heavily. He opened his mouth slightly into an ‘o’ and breathed sharply in before turning back towards the taller man.  
  
“The water’s going to be rough. We’ll need to avoid any rocky areas and take the shortest route possible to Hokkaido and continue on the next morning, when the sea has calmed,” Haruka paused for a moment, before adding, “don’t worry, Captain Makoto. The water says she won’t hurt me, and I won’t let her hurt you.”  
  
Makoto gave the black-haired man a grateful smile before he turned his head to look out at the sea in front of them.  
  
“Ah, I was hoping I would know my way to Japan, but I can’t see any landmarks or any _anything_ in this weather. I suppose we’ll have to wake Nagisa. Ah, but I don’t want to do that! He drank so much last night, I bet he’ll be in a foul mood,” his face turned glum and his lower lip stuck out in a weak pout. “Haru, would you get him up for me?”  
  
Haru scoffed and dug his thumbs into the folds of fabric that hung from his belt. “I don’t have to do anything you ask me to if it isn’t a direct order,” he declined, his voice monotonous, his head tilted back with his chin in the air.  
  
Makoto straightened up. “Well then, Nanase Haruka, your captain orders you to wake up the navigator!” He grinned with childlike pride, “now you have to do it!”  
  
Shaking his head, Haruka walked towards his captain and slowly descended into the living quarters. Catching the eye of his superior, he paused and remarked, “you’re a terrible captain,” and continued down the steps.  
  
The captain shook his head with a fond smile and walked to rest his arms on the side of the boat. Looking down at the curves of purpleheart wood beneath his toned arms, he realised all at once how beautiful the ship was. ‘Neptune’s Mermaid’, her name was, after a painting Haruka had ached over perfecting before gifting it to Makoto on his sixteenth birthday. Long, glossy planks of wood, worn smooth by sand and storms, and tall, elegant sails that billowed in even the slightest of breezes and never failed the crew. A stunning metal carving of a mermaid holding a shell to her ear sat upon the beak of the boat as a figurehead, another artistic creation of the second-in-command. Its tarnished surface still gleamed in the sunlight, despite years of corrosion.  
  
The bitter sound of a bottle smashing was enough to jolt Makoto back to reality, and he instinctively started towards the sleeping quarters before he was knocked aside by Haru, panting, tense, with an angered look on his face. He bent to rest his hands on his knees and looked up at his superior with half-lidded eyes.

“I am never, ever doing that again,” he grunted, “do you know how strong he is when he’s sleeping?”  
  
“I’m sorry! Are you hurt?” the captain fussed, circling Haru like a bird of prey, seeking out his injury.  
  
“He threw a bottle at me. I dodged.”  
  
“ _Hey_ , it isn’t my fault my aim is bad in the morning!” Nagisa called up, yawning and stretching as he ascended the staircase. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and dug a hand into his tangled mess of blond hair. He looked between his two elders almost expectantly, before throwing an arm around each of them and yawning again.  
  
“Good morning, Nagisa. How is your head?”  
  
Nagisa nodded positively in response, letting his arms fall back to his sides, glancing up at the sky before his gaze settled on Haru.  
  
“Why did you wake me up? It’s all cold and grey, so it isn’t like we’ll be going anywhere. Can’t you just sail to the nearest port and we’ll rest there?” he asked, wrapping a loose thread from his shirt around his index finger.  
  
The captain removed his tricorne and ran his fingers through sweat-slick hair. “You know how dangerous it is to dock when we don’t know the town; we could get caught, or worse, killed,” he sighed and twisted two strands of hair between his fingers, hesitating, “you know what happened to Rin when we stayed in that town in Sydney. Nobody knows if he’s even _alive_ , and I can’t put the crew through that kind of turmoil again.”  
  
“Makoto,” Haruka interrupted, tugging on the sleeve of the captain’s moss-green coat, “we need to leave soon, or we’ll get caught in the eye of the storm.”

“Right, right, thank you. Yes,” the brunet fished around in his pockets for an old, dog-eared map.  
  
“Are we heading to Iwatobi? Even in a storm?” Nagisa frowned.  
  
“No, not quite,” the taller man pulled the paper flat between his hands and used a thumb to point to a small speck of what looked like land, humming quietly, “there’s a town around here that’s used for sailing races, and there’s a handful of beautiful boats there so we shouldn’t look suspicious. It’s in Hokkaido. Do you think you can get us there?”  
  
The blond waved his hand and batted the map away, rolling up the sleeves of his primrose shirt and walking towards the wheel with determination, gripping the sun-faded wood tightly.  
  
“You’re going to need the map,” Haru told him.  
  
“What d’you take me for, Nanase? I don’t need a map.”  
  
“You’re going to need the map,” he repeated, grimacing, “it’s going to get dark and misty, and you know you can’t steer through storms. You will _need_ the map.”  
  
Nagisa turned around and poked his tongue out at the taller men, starting to steer the ship away from the rocks they were cruising past, and through the river of some sort of island, abandoned, but abundant with plants. Nagisa was swift and nimble when it came to sailing, and any journey time would be cut dramatically by his eccentric shortcuts.  
  
Unfortunately, his detours sometimes brought with them some unpleasant consequences. Usually, it would just be a gang of pirates new to the scene, ones that didn’t put up a fight, but didn’t have much gold all the same. Sometimes, it would be wild animals, or hostile insects, or swarms of hungry vultures. But nothing like that could compare to what Nagisa had just driven them into.  
  
“Is that a ship?” Makoto asked, his voice a little shaken, “hah, Nagisa, are you deliberately driving us into another ship?”  
  
“It’s big, too,” the blond hummed, ignoring the accusation, “they must be rich. Rich means good, right? More treasure!”  
  
“More fighting experience,” Haru grumbled in a low voice, one hand on the hilt of his cutlass in preparation, his other pushing back the nervous captain, “Nagisa, turn us around, take the regular routes. We don’t have time for fighting.”  
  
“I-I can’t! The river’s too thin!”  
  
“Prepare yourself, Nanase, Hazuki!” Makoto shouted as the shadow of a tall, elegant ship drew near, masts like crooked fingers reaching up to the sky, sails torn and faded. He curled his fingers around the handle of his sword and readied himself in a defensive stance.  
  
The beak of the other ship creaked to a halt before Neptune’s Mermaid, and a tall, broad, confident figure started walking across the bowsprit, deftly jumping down onto Makoto’s ship.  
  
He was toned, tanned, his maroon hair in a short pigtail with his fringe caught up in a bandana that wrapped twice around his forehead, strands of loose hair flying down into his sly eyes, red like the blood on the end of his sword. He wore nothing on his torso but a torn, sleeveless tailcoat, and the tail of some sort of woodland creature hung across his shoulders. Scars adorned his skin, some covered loosely with bandages or obscured with scraps of fabric, others shown as proof of battle victories. On his long legs, he wore long, unbuttoned beige pants, held up by a thick belt that housed a gun and a waterskin. His feet were calloused and dirty, strapped into thick leather sandals. When he smiled, his teeth showed, sharp as knives in his mouth. His chin lifted and his earrings clinked like they did when he jumped from the bowsprit. He was immediately dangerous, with watching eyes and shark-like teeth, and he made bile rise in the throats of the three pirates.  
  
“Well, well,” he spoke in a low, aggressive drawl, “I never thought I’d run into you again. It’s been, what, three years since we last met? You remember, don’t you? When you let guards drag me away to the chopping block like some kind of sick animal?”  
  
Tachibana struggled to keep himself from keeling over right that second, steadying himself on Haruka’s shoulder. When he looked at this man again, he felt idiotic for not recognising him before.  
  
“Rin?” He asked, delicately, like his name was fragile porcelain and all hell would break loose if he treated it with the anger he could feel in the pit of his stomach.  
  
The man chuckled sadistically and balanced his sword between his two hands. “The one and only. My, it’s been forever. How about we have a little reunion right here? I think,” he stepped in until he was a hair’s breadth from Makoto’s ear, “I think that I should like to introduce my sword to your neck.”


	2. Prologue Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll go. On one condition."

The feel of Rin's breath crawling over his neck made Makoto feel queasy, the hand he had on his sword shivering. He tried to straighten his neck, to elongate himself, to look tall and broad and intimidating and everything he wasn't. He rolled his shoulders back and slowly, anxiously stepped away from the threat of Rin's sharp mouth.

He drew his sword, making sure to run the sharp edges of the metal against the sheath, letting the scraping noise ring in the air as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Don't make me do this,” he said, using his free hand to adjust his hat.

Rin scoffed. “Do what? I know you won't hurt me. You'd never lay your hands on someone if they didn't make the first move,” shifting his weight onto one leg, he recited, “the posters with your face on, they read, 'Tachibana Makoto, dangerous pirate captain, renowned across the globe – kill on sight'. The law wants your head, Makoto, yet you've never taken a single life.”

The muscles in Makoto's back grew tense, and behind him, Haruka drew his cutlass, eyelashes brushing against his brow as he lowered his head, keeping his eyes on the hazard facing his captain.

“You know, someone as big and strong as you could easily take down a whole ship without breaking a sweat. You could have the world in your hands, you know, yet you choose this pathetic way of life and you never even consider your potential. Honestly, you'd think-”

“That's enough,” Haruka snapped, stamping his foot on the deck. “Take one step closer and I'll gut you mys-”

“Oy, I'm speaking,” Rin hissed, but dropped his monologue and decided to pick on Haruka instead. “I almost forgot you were here. No surprise, really, considering you're nothing but the captain's lap dog. The one who finishes people off for him, brings him food, soothes his pains. What else do you do on this ship, besides providing a life of luxury for Tachibana?” He paused, pursed his lips, and laughter suddenly erupted from between them. “Don't tell me that you're here because you can 'talk to the ocean'! You didn't _really_ use your pathetic little party trick to earn you a place on _Neptune's_ fucking _mermaid_ , did you?”

“It's more than just a trick, Rin, it's saved our lives on multiple occasions,” Nagisa interjected with a fierce frown.

“Don't get me started on you,” the redhead snarled, holding up a hand in a silent order. “Are you going to answer me, Nanase? How did you get where you are now? Because if you ask me, you don't deserve it one bit.”

“Silence yourself!” Makoto snapped, making the men by his side flinch. “It is my duty, as a captain, to protect the health of my crew, both mentally and physically. I am giving you fair warning; get off my ship, or I will be forced to attack.”

“Bring it on, big boy. You three haven't had a real fight in a long time, and I have a crew of nineteen other men behind me. Go ahead, lunge at me.”

The way in which Rin fluttered his long, sun-bleached eyelashes, leaned into Makoto's neck and cradled his face between calloused hands, was enough to make the captain quiver, flushing hot and cold at once.

“Aren't you going to attack? Come on,” he whispered, breath hot and moist, voice teasingly seductive, “I dare you.”

Rin arched his spine and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a sudden punch thrown by the navigator. “Get your hands off the captain, or I will throw you to the ocean and let her punish you herself!”

“You think you have what it takes to challenge me, you little scamp?”

“No doubt. I'm faster and sharper and I'm not as heavy. You might have more strength but that's useless when you can't see what you're defending yourself from.”

“I could render you limbless with my eyes closed, runt, are you sure you-”

“Nagisa, drop it, we don't have the time,” Haru said firmly, his face typically stoic and his body stiff. He looked directly at the redhead. “We don't want to fight, we aren't prepared. I ask you to leave this vessel.”

Rin's eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at the crew he had once been so close to with nothing but bitter hatred.

“Fine, I'll go. On one condition.”

Haru held back the vast urge to strangle the man then and there, curling his hands into fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm until his knuckles went white. He lifted his chin and blinked slowly.

“What condition is that?” He asked, his voice ice cold and his glare stony.

Rin stayed silent for a second, a savage grin growing wide across his face. He balanced his sheathed sword across broad, scarred shoulders and twisted from the waist, starting to walk in slow, sinister circles on the deck, his sandals clapping against the wood with each step.

“You see, when your captain proposed a sword fight, I must admit I got a little... enthusiastic about the idea,” he stopped in his tracks to wink at Makoto, who flushed and scowled.

“Get to the point,” he snarled impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, give me some time. Anyway, now you've gone and got my hopes up, it's really your job to deal with the consequences. I'm prepared to let you go this time, because if I don't, Mikoshiba will have my head. So here it is, here's my condition,” he stopped dead in his tracks and swung his whole body heavily to face the three pirates. He clipped his sword back to his belt and folded his arms arrogantly. “Next time we meet, there will be a showdown. If you win, you can take one of our crew members, and maybe you can make use of her. But if I win, I'm allowed to take full pleasure in murdering the man held responsible for my capture,” he stepped forwards to pinch Makoto's chin between his thumb and finger, “Captain Tachibana.”

“No,” Haru declared, “Makoto was not the one who turned you over to the law. It was me. I won't let you take an innocent man's life. If you want to bet the life of one of us, at least have the decency to choose the man who personally dragged you to the police.”

“Haru, don't-”

“Fine. If I win, I get to delight in painting your deck with the bloody remains of Nanase's corpse. I look forward to it.” Rin danced his finger and thumb down Makoto's neck, and turned away to heave himself onto the bowsprit. Saluting to the men, he vowed, “we'll meet again, I promise,” before disappearing into the mist of the ship in front of them.

After a moment's silence, Captain Tachibana rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck, glaring at his shorter comrade. “Nanase, that was the most idiotic, irresponsible thing I've ever seen you do in your life,” he barked, but his face softened and he let his eyelids fall closed. “Thank you.”

“Moron,” Haruka muttered, hiding his blush with loose lengths of hair. “Nagisa, we should set sail. If we leave now, we can still make it to Hokkaido before we're really hit by the storm.”

“Mm,” the navigator agreed, holding out his hand for the map. “I think there's a shortcut between islands that can cut the time by about an hour, but we'll need to be on our guard for enemies. There's a group of-”

“No, take the long way round,” Makoto ordered, “I think we've had enough for one day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had, like, no time for long chapters so I'm making this part two of the prologue where they reunite with Rin, and when my exams are over I'll start doing like 3000-6000 word chapters focusing more on the plot and relationships.


	3. I - On Dry Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing in the world could persuade me to give you up."

Haru had predicted correctly: the sea was vicious, hurling waves at unsuspecting ships, throwing her watery tendrils at petrified pirates, as if the people were in her debt and she demanded lives to repay her. Countless cries and screams could be heard between every crack of thunder, cries and screams of terror, begging for mercy. Begging not to drown.

However, as the man had promised, Neptune's Mermaid and her crew were virtually untouched by the storm. It was as if the gods themselves had bestowed a blessing on Nanase Haruka, a blessing that shielded him from the cruel ways of the water. It was fortuitous, really, for had the gift not existed, all three men would very surely be dead.

“It's getting hard to see through the haze,” Nagisa grumbled, leaning over the wheel to squint at angry clouds. “We'd better be close to this damn town.”

Captain Tachibana narrowed his eyes. “We're near the coast, at least. Over north, can you see that? It looks like some sort of city.”

The navigator bent further over the wheel, until handles pressed against his stomach. “Ah, yes! We must be close! Heh, I can almost smell the city air.”

“Hazuki, look out!”

Nagisa jolted as he slipped against the wood and spun the wheel, throwing the ship into a heavy wave that sprayed his face with bitter cold. He scrambled to gain control. “Whoa, fuck! Apologies, crew.”

“Language,” Makoto objected, wiping saltwater from the bridge of his nose. His tailcoat flapped like a flag in the gale, billowing out behind him as if it were a sail. He had taken his hat off when the storm arose, in fear of losing it, and his sweat-slick, tangled hair was flying wildly, the wind pushing it this way and that, in and out of his eyes in quick intervals. Somehow, the quick whipping of his hair made his eyes look even more afraid than they were. The scarcely-visible slivers of moonlight reflected in his eyes, reaching glowing hands to the tears that brimmed but weren't let free.

Tachibana curled a hand over his heart and gripped the fabric of his shirt between his knuckles, looking down at the deck with a marble gaze. He had every intention, as a captain and a friend, to protect his crew and keep them safe. It was difficult, of course, and he didn't mind that. But when Rin had come so close, breathed on his neck, acted so flirtatiously after what he had done to them, what Haru had done to him... Memories bubbled poisonously at the edges of Makoto's mind. He gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, descending to the living quarters to fetch a bottle of rum to bleach out his mind.

As he was rooting around in the storage, he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. Startled, he whipped around and knocked the hand away with his forearm.

“Tch,” Haru scowled, wringing his offended hand, “that hurt. You're stronger than you realise.”

The taller man smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he bowed, easing the cork from a bottle of rum. “Can I help you at all, or were you just trying to scare me?”

Blue eyes bore into his own with impatience. “Makoto. I think you know why I'm here.”

The captain tilted his head, faking confusion, but the twitch in the corner of his eye gave it away. He glanced briefly at the raised eyebrows of his friend and then back down at the bottle in his hands. Taking a sip, he pushed past the inky-haired pirate and walked through to the living quarters, sinking into one of the bunks as Haru followed suit.

“It's just a little weird seeing Rin again after all this time. I thought I'd put this all behind me, that I'd moved on. I guess I just can't handle something like that.”

Haruka shook his head. “You know you were never over it. Nobody could really get over something like that, not even you. You didn't think about it because you believed he was dead, you _wanted_ to believe he was dead. I would have too, if I were in your shoes.” He turned his head away and bit his lip. His fingers curled in at the ends until his knuckles went white. “If it helps,” he started, hesitantly, “I can kill him when we fight. I know we're all rusty, but if that's what it takes then I'll-”

“You can't,” Makoto interjected firmly.

“I can practice. If you train with me for a few days, I'm sure I'll be strong enough.”

“No, I mean,” the Captain sighed and raked a hand through his hair, taking another sip of rum. “You _can't_. I won't let you. I know we've had a bad history but... He's still a friend.”

Haru's face darkened and his mood turned sour. “Some friend,” he muttered, getting to his feet.

“Wait, Haru!”

He spun on his heel and glared for a second before he was struck by Tachibana's soft stare and weak smile, his face kind and warm despite Haru, despite Rin, despite everything. Haruka blinked slowly. “Hm?”

Makoto reached out a hand to him and smiled. “Stay.”

Though the Captain had only used a single word, the way he looked at Haruka spoke thousands upon thousands. Neither man could remember a time when they hadn't been able to use their eyes to communicate, and neither wanted to anyway. Living the life of leadership meant that Makoto was on his feet almost all day, and his stress was endless. Having someone to fall back on when his mouth ran dry or his tongue grew numb, it was something he couldn't easily learn to live without. As for Haruka, he could only ever see himself as irrelevant, and of no importance. He was one man, with a strange gift and two good friends, and he travelled vast oceans for a living. Nobody knew who he was, he wasn't famous or feared, he didn't even have a family. He wasn't special. But for the moments when he could turn around and share a bond with someone, a bond so deep it was telepathic, the world around him dissipated and he felt so lucky to be alive, to be with this wonderful, reliable, remarkably angelic man. He felt unique. He realised for a short while what it meant to be Nanase Haruka, what it was to be _special_. Nothing could take that away.

Haru looked at the calloused, sun-tanned, freckled hand stretched out to him, studying every crease, crack and pore for what felt like years but was, most probably, milliseconds. Hand outstretched, he let his fingers interlock with the Captain's and anchored himself less than an inch away on the bunk.

Makoto smiled down into the azure eyes that watched him fondly, and let out a soft hum when the weight of Nanase's head reclined against his shoulder. He curled his free hand around the smaller man's waist and hoisted him up so he was sitting in his lap, legs on the bunk, head on the Captain's broad chest.

“Don't fall asleep,” the brunet reminded, despite how he was shrugging off his pea-green coat and wrapping it around his friend. He felt him snuggle into the fabric and curl up against Makoto's shirt, yawning softly. “Hey, I said _don't_ fall asleep.”

“I'm tired,” Haru complained, but all the same he rolled onto his back and looked up to the man he was resting against. “Hey, Makoto.”

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when we were babies, and we used to play by the shipyard, under the old fishing boat?”

“Of course I do. Why do you ask?”

Haru bit the inside of his cheek. “You know the time we fell asleep by accident, and by the time we woke up it was pitch black and the water was up to our shins? It was too dark to find our way home, so we stayed there and made up stories about brave pirates and their adventures, just to calm each other down. And it worked.”

Makoto chuckled gently. “Yes, I do remember that. When we got home the next morning our parents were furious, and we both had terrible fevers. I wasn't allowed out for a month.” Lifting his thumb to rub against Haru's knuckles, he asked, “what's brought this up?”

Suddenly, his grip on Makoto's hand became a lot tighter, and he turned his head away so as to avoid eye contact. “Do you... Do you think that's how we got here?”

The Captain tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

He let go of his hand and turned to prop himself on his elbows either side of Makoto's thigh, tracing one finger along the gold lining of the coat he was bundled in. “I mean, do you think that the reason we're pirates, the real reason someone as harmless as you and someone as dull as me became wanted vagabonds, is because of that night on the beach?”

Makoto studied Haruka's expression for a moment. “We both know there are a lot of reasons why we left home. To me, that's how we got here. Neither of us had a choice, and... I don't know. Maybe you're right. Maybe we already planned what we'd do if it ever came down to running away. All I know is that, no matter how many times I wake up and feel alone, how many times I lose my nerve when I see a floored enemy, how much I wish I could visit my family again...” Makoto began to smile and linked his pinky finger with Haru's, a habit he'd adopted as a baby. “No matter what, I don't stay sad because I know that as soon as I walk up those stairs, the moment I say good morning, I see the faces of my two best friends. The faces of a man who never grew up, and a man who once sacrificed everything to save my life. Every morning, I count my blessings, because I am so fortunate to share a part of this ship, to be a part of this crew. Nothing in the _world_ could persuade me to give you up.”

Haruka's heart thudded against the walls of his chest, and his stomach squeezed so hard he felt he was about to throw up. He bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking as he squeezed Makoto's large hands as hard as he could, burying his face in the fabric of the pea-green coat.

“Haru.”

He raised his head at the call of his name, cheeks ablaze. “Makoto.”

The Captain, he noticed, was blushing just as furiously, and his eyebrows were furrowed in a worried look. “Can I- I mean, is it okay if I- if _we_ perhaps took this moment to share a-”

“Land ho!” Came Nagisa's triumphant cry from the deck, and Haruka cursed the navigator silently, scowling.

Makoto's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Ah, it seems we've arrived. We should go. I'm absolutely famished, and I hear the food here is wonderful. You can keep my coat on, it's probably cold.” Shuffling out from underneath Haruka, the Captain stood and stretched his long limbs before offering a hand to pull the other man to his feet.

When the two reached the deck, they were suddenly struck by the incredible, awe-inspiring scenery. Lanterns hung from houses here and there, casting a peach glow over the city. People roamed the streets and nodded at each other as they passed, stopping occasionally to pet the cats that prowled the alleys. The water was clear as crystal, and the boats surrounding Neptune's Mermaid were almost as beautiful as the ship herself.

Not far off, a crooked and crumbled inn could be seen. It was covered in vines and flowers, and a young woman sat on the wall outside, weaving long loops of grass to tie together a bamboo pan flute. Her hair was long and tangled. It was a dark shade of red, held up in a ponytail, a stark contrast to the dark, silken hair of the city's natives. Every few seconds, she would stop her weaving and look up at the stars that littered the night sky like sequins. It was one of the most unbelievable sights the crew had ever had the luck to witness.

“I have some gold in my belt. How much do you suppose it will cost to get food rooms for us all?” Nagisa asked, breaking through the veil of stunned silence that had fallen upon them.

“Ten or so pieces,” Makoto replied, and without hesitation, walked toward the dock.

The crew, having left the boat, started to draw closer to the inn they had spotted. As they got near, Makoto was drawn to look at the weaving girl more and more. She was short, smaller than Nagisa, and slender, and she wore nothing but worn shorts and a men's shirt. He could not shake the feeling that he'd seen this girl before, but the look she gave him when she caught him staring was enough of a threat to distinguish all curiosity. He peered down at his feet and then back up toward the inn.

Entering eagerly, Nagisa pushed through crowds of people to reach the service desk, leaving his elder pirates struggling behind.

“Excuse me, madame! My two friends and I would like a place to stay, and something to eat,” he explained, “could you tell me what rooms you have available tonight?”

The woman at the counter was small, hunched with age, and her face was marked with wrinkles that showed when she smiled. “Certainly. We currently have two single rooms and one double room, and ramen comes on the house.”

“Perfect, perfect. How much would that come to?”

“How much do you have?”

“I could pay you... Six gold pieces?”

“Don't be absurd. Ten.”

“Oh, but miss, I'm about to faint! I haven't slept well in so long. I can pay seven at most!”

The woman huffed. “Nine.”

“Eight, and you're running me dry!”

She thought for a second and then held out her hand. “Fine. Cough up your payment and I'll give you the keys.”

Nanase and Tachibana looked at each other amusedly. Not only was he the one who kept the ship lively, drinking too much every now and then, singing shanties here and there, Hazuki Nagisa was also in charge of negotiation. Nobody would say no to his cute charms without serious consequences, which often came as a shock that resulted in him getting his way no matter what.

Nagisa turned to the two taller men and handed them each a small brass key with a number etched on the side. “She says ramen will be delivered as soon as it's ready. Makoto, you're big, so I gave you the double room. It shouldn't matter too much, seeing as we're all used to sleeping on beds thinner than our bodies,” the blond chuckled and twirled his own key between his thumb and finger, “well, I'm in room one-zero-two, so if anything happens, give me fifteen minutes notice to wake up and get out of here. Haru, Mako, sleep well!”

Faint humming could be heard as Hazuki disappeared into the bustling crowds and made his way to the stairs. Haruka stared up at the broader man and nudged him gently with his elbow, hoping he's get the hint and part the sea of people so they could reach the stairs unharmed.

“Ah, I'm so tired. I'd better head up too,” yawned Makoto, “it looks like I'm in room one-zero-six, find me if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Haru nodded, waving his key that read '101' in front of his Captain.

He followed him up the stairs and examined the corridor with tired eyes.

The wood was all faded and warped from heat, paint cracking away from the walls in large chunks. He grimaced and continued walking; he would rather have just stayed sleeping on the boat, on Makoto's chest. He wished that was an option.

“Well, goodnight,” piped said man, patting Haru affectionately on the shoulder before leaving him staring at a crooked wooden door with clumsily etched Roman numerals adorning it. His hands shaking with irritation and fatigue, he slid the key into the lock and pulled the handle to enter the room.

He was mildly disgusted.

The walls were in much the same state as the ones in the hallways, but the corners were stained with patches of mould, and he could've sworn he heard rats screeching from inside. Every tentative step he took on the cold, damp wood could be heard in an echo throughout the room. Each plank let out a ghastly groan when he moved and he was almost certain they would break under the weight of someone as heavy as Makoto.

He set himself down on the bed and shuddered at the feeling. The mattress was oddly warm, and it felt damp when he touched it. He tried lying down, but the pillow reeked of mildew and vomit, and he couldn't stand it for more than half a second without thinking he'd rather have his face buried in a chamber pot. He sprung to his feet and decided he'd just try and keep himself awake until sheer exhaustion knocked him out.

The room was very empty, only being about six feet wide, and he could hardly move without touching some kind of dank surface, but beside the bed was a small table with a single drawer, a lantern balanced precariously on the edge. Haruka pulled on the chipped handle of the drawer and rummaged through bundles of left-behind garbage inside, looking for a matchbox. Underneath the item he was looking for, he saw some scrappy bits of paper, bound together with a shoddy stitching job. It looked like something a child had left behind, the first few pages full of strange, stick-like pictures with some kind of strange writing scrawled around the figures. He fished around for something to draw with and found a juniper wood pencil, stained with grubby fingerprints. It would do for now, as all he needed was something to keep him awake, so he pulled out the equipment and struck a match, setting light to the lantern. The lights outside were being put out by the approaching storm, and without them, the room was black as coal.

He slammed the drawer closed and took the pencil between his fingers, flipping through the paper until he found a clean sheet. Slowly, he began to sketch out the figures of two men, one lying on the body of the other, their fingers interlaced, looking hopelessly into each other's eyes. He began to flesh out the skeletal drawings, until what he was depicting was clearly him and his Captain, in that one point of trust and hope, that second before Nagisa had screamed their arrival and brought the build-up to _their moment_ crashing back down to where it all had started.

Haruka's grip on the pencil became furious, until his knuckles were white and his hand was shaking violently. There was an abrupt _snap_ as he realised he'd broken the pencil, leaving the picture messy, smudged from where his hand had hit the paper. He threw it down in a burst of frustration and curled his head into his knees, cursing himself for being so easily shaken.

A burst of thunder rumbled through the skies and Haruka whipped his head up instinctively, his eyes searching for a Makoto he knew wasn't there. The Captain had a distinct fear of storms, and though he could usually power through the feeling, the sound of thunder froze him to the spot and he was crippled with anxiety.

Despite himself, Nanase got to his feet and grabbed his key, tucking it into the pocket of his pants, and crept out the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you feel like it, go check out some of my other stuff  
> *finger guns* cool beans


	4. II - To Be In Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the long wait!
> 
> There is some pirate slang used in this chapter so I shall leave a translation at the end.

It seemed that in the time he'd spent sketching, the inn had quietened to a small whisper coming from one or two guests downstairs, and the hallways were filled with a murky darkness. Haruka felt his way along the corridor, groping and snatching at handles and handrails, desperately trying to finger the number etchings on the doors.

When he thought he'd found one-zero-six, he rattled the handle, knocking on the door. No reply came from inside, and he didn't want to knock any louder in case Makoto was already asleep.

“Oi!” came a cry from behind, and he whipped around to see a portly, middle-aged man glaring at him with milky eyes. “Oi, what's you doing at my door?”

“Sorry,” Haru mumbled, “I'm trying to find one-zero-six.”

“You want the door two to the right, then. Can't you read?”

“It's dark.”

“Whatever. I better not catch you at my door again, get it?” With that, the man barged past Haru and entered the room, which he could now see was one-zero-four. He tried the door two down, as he'd been told, and found the door unlocked.

He cracked open the door until he could see Tachibana's figure huddled under the bedsheets, breathing erratic, muttering words under his breath, his voice squeaking.

Haruka softly closed the door behind him and cleared his throat to announce his presence. Makoto jumped and raised his head.

“H-Haru...” He started to breathe a little more calmly, showing a genuine, tired smile. “Are you alright? What's the matter?”

“There's a thunderstorm,” he stated blankly, “I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay. I would go, but I can tell you're scared stiff. Not to mention, your room is much nicer than mine. Do you mind if I stay?”

Makoto shook his head and scooted over to one side of the bed, patting the space beside him, offering up a portion of blankets and an outstretched arm.

Haru wasn't exactly going to say no to that.

He twisted the handle of the door up and tossed himself onto the mattress, the hairs on his arms raised from the cold. Without hesitation, he nestled into the comforting heat of Tachibana's skin. He was wearing the simple cotton vest that he usually wore to sleep, and his starchy breeches scratched at Haruka's legs. Haru had only removed his jacket and shoes, and was laying stiffly, his arms strangled in the folds of his shirt. His sore limbs and raw elbows ached for him to remove it.

“Ah, Makoto, is it okay if I take off my shirt?”

He felt the Captain stiffen considerably, his shoulders drawing in. “H-Haru, don't. Not after Ri-”

“No!” He interrupted, waving his hands. “No, I don't mean like that. God, I'm not a brasser. I just mean that my skin is itching, and I need to- sod it.”

Makoto watched with anxiety as his First Mate discarded his linen shirt and rolled his shoulders back, not bothering to wait to curl back into the mattress. He nuzzled gently at the taller man's arm, letting out a small, content hum as he felt fingers drift through his hair. Every time lightning fizzled through the air, he would softly press his lips to Makoto's skin, just to distract him for that moment until he was calm again.

Makoto's breathing was like the ocean. It was steady, powerful, and the smallest change was felt by everyone near. It was something Haru trusted, almost depended on to keep him sane. Makoto's breathing was something he loved and, sometimes, even had power over.

The gentle tempo lulled Haruka into a trance-like state, caught in a rhythm of hums and touches. The joint heat of skin against skin, buried under bedsheets, made for a sweltering climate, and before he knew what was going on, Makoto was freeing himself from the sweat-slick cage of his vest. The moonlight caught on the corners of his sticky abs, streaming down over every curve of his sculpted chest and getting trapped in the maze of his hair.

Somehow, Makoto's sudden lack of modesty or worry made Haru feel at ease, and when he shifted closer, he wasn't brushed off or pushed away. He was carefully, tentatively pulled in until their torsos were flush against each other, and an arm was hanging around Haruka's waist, fingers gently crawling between the dips and dives of his vertebrae.

Makoto wasn't saying a word. His eyes were closed, his breathing calm, lips pressed in a smile at Haruka's forehead. Soft hums whirred in his chest when as he breathed. He was content.

He was letting Haru in.

The smaller man let the space between his lips cradle the strong, smooth curve of the Captain's jaw, flecks of stubble rubbing at his skin when he breathed. He pushed his fingers through a gap between Makoto's waist and elbow, snaking his hand over to trace circles in the small of his back. Makoto murmured in pleasure, nuzzling softly into Haruka, the corner of his jaw scraping over straight, smooth teeth. He quivered.

“H-ha, Haruka...” Tachibana's muscles tightened as he withdrew his hands to place them flat on Haru's chest, fingers inching slowly towards the forbidden sensitivity of his neck.

Nanase let out a sharp gasp as a long, unkempt nail swept over his throat, dragging back and forth, making him squirm. Writhing underneath his Captain's touch, he grasped at Makoto's tangled hair and lost his fingers in the depths, his eyes squeezed tight to keep back the noises welling inside of him. He felt breath hot on his skin. He was so close to him, so near, he ached to reach out and give in, to fight any self-restraint he had left and take Makoto in his lips like he had so many times before everything changed. He wanted to relive the lazy mornings with ruffled hair, see the bite marks littering their bodies, he wished to taste those lips again. It took every fibre of his body not to.

Instead, he let his hands fall from Makoto's hair, fingers delicately curling around strong, tan wrists, prising nails away from his neck. He pulled those arms back to cradle him, and nestled into scarred skin and a steady heartbeat. He let his lips flutter against his Captain's skin, their bodies so tightly entwined that the touch of a mouth or the shift of a limb meant nothing. The smell of salt and sweat and comfort filled his lungs, an aroma so familiar that nowhere was home without it, and gradually, he shut his active thoughts away and began to close his eyes.

Thick limbs of sleep pulled at Haru's body, scratching at his skin, tugging on his hair, yanking on his legs. Swift tendrils of inky darkness curled around him, imprisoning him in a hot, threatening cage. He struggled against the restraints but couldn't budge. Something sticky and scorching and incredibly heavy was weighing upon him, stopping his movement and keeping him awake.

“One bowl of ramen no- _by all that is great and good_!”

Haru jolted fully awake as he heard china shattering on the ground and the shrill cursing of a woman at the door. Standing open-mouthed, with a lantern in one hand, was the woman who Nagisa had spoken with to get their rooms. While the flame of her lamp cast an orange haze over her face, she looked as white as a sheet and twice as crumpled.

Haru's face burned in shock and embarrassment as he realised Makoto was lying upon him, exposed and sweaty. “No, miss, it isn't wha-”

“If you two are going to be playing back gammon in here, at least have the decency to put a sock on the doorknob! Gracious, you sea men can be so _blunt_. I'll be up to clean the mess in the morning. Not _your_ mess, mind you. I'll have another bowl ready for you after you've finished your... _activities_.”

“By the Gods, will you get out?” Haru hissed with a low growl in his voice.

“Yes, yes, my apologies. I'll leave you to your-”

“ _Out_!” He yelled, and reached out to slam the door. He scowled for a moment, assuming the racket had woken his Captain, but was pleased to hear a muffled snore that told him Makoto had somehow slept through it. He panted out a chuckle and shook his head, sinking down into the mattress. Gently, as if handling an infant, Haruka wrapped his arms around the smooth curves of Makoto's back, and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, and tilted his head back, “may the Gods watch over you, my dearest Makoto.”

The morning that followed was a soft and lazy one, clouds drifting across the sky as time passed and the sun rose, and Haruka and his Captain were still sound asleep, unperturbed by the light streaming in from the windows. There was no sign of any thunderstorm, save for the beads of water rolling down the leaves of trees, but they could easily have been perceived as dewdrops.

While it would have been pleasant to be awakened by the sweet, melodic whistling of the skylark perched upon a branch outside, it was clearly not meant to be.

Nagisa threw open the door and announced his presence by clearing his throat loudly.

“Rise and shine, Captain Makoto!” Hazuki chimed, ignoring the damp mess of noodles on the floor and stamping mercilessly through the room. He twisted the handle of the window and threw it open flamboyantly. He was, most definitely, a morning person.

“Mmh, Nagisa? What time is it?” Makoto groaned, not bothering to move.

“I think it's about nine in the morning. The clock downstairs is a bit out of whack,” he explained, leaning over the windowsill to brush his fingertips along the petals of a blossom. “Have you seen Haru, by any chance? He's not in his room.”

“He's here,” said the Captain, and immediately became flushed as Haru peered up from beneath Makoto's shoulder and blinked slowly.

Nagisa turned around and beamed softly at his crew. “Figures,” he hummed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pantaloons. “Well, now that I have you all in one place, I think we'd better get a move on. After that storm last night, I don't want to get caught up in any weather-related bothers. I'll wait downstairs for you.”

With that, Nagisa left them in peace, and Haru pulled himself out from underneath Makoto's weight. He reached under the bed for his shirt and shook it by the shoulders to tackle its creases before he put it on. Hesitantly, he picked up Makoto's vest and held it to his chest, breathing in its deep, woody scent. The familiarity of the smell hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately tossed it to Makoto.

“Thanks,” grunted the taller man, rising from the bed to stretch his muscles. Haru tried valiantly not to look at the curves and definition of Makoto's back when he outstretched his arms to don his vest. “Where did you leave your jacket and shoes?”

“In my room,” Haruka answered, pulling absent-mindedly at the buttons of his shirt. Sensing the intention of Tachibana's words, he walked towards the door, dodging the slimy strings of pasta that lay strewn across the floor.

Feeling a hand clasp at his, Nanase flinched and turned around.

Makoto looked as if he couldn't quite believe himself. “O-oh, Haru, sorry! I didn't mean to-”

“It's fine,” he nodded, and dropped the palm in his.

“Wait, Haru!” He turned around again and was swept into a large, crushing, but somewhat comforting hug. “Thank you. For staying with me last night. I really needed someone there, and you were... Well, thank you.”

“Mm,” Haruka hummed in response. He smiled briefly at his Captain before finally leaving the room.

As the door shut, he leaned against the wall, his eyebrows knitted together, his posture slouched. Of course, he was thrilled to have been this close to Makoto again after such a long time. It felt so good, so right to have their touches back on each other's bodies, and it wasn't possible to deny the harmony of their breathing, their hums and their heat. Of course Haruka was happy. There was no reason not to be.

But somehow, a small, selfish part of him hadn't quite had enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brasser - a cheap prostitute  
> Playing back gammon - engaging in gay sex


End file.
